


Fake Deaths and Lucky Charms

by AzzyJ94



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ficlet, Fluff, M/M, Temporary Character Death, but not really
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-20
Updated: 2016-06-20
Packaged: 2018-07-16 03:55:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7250968
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AzzyJ94/pseuds/AzzyJ94
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For prompt: •	“Who wouldn’t be angry you ate all of my cereal and faked your death for three years!”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fake Deaths and Lucky Charms

Dean liked to think of himself as a normal enough guy. He was a wrestler in high school; drove his dad’s car since he was eighteen; and always looked after his little brother. Hell, he even married his high school sweetheart ten years later. Then, of course Castiel was deployed back to Syria and never came home. It had been the most devastating moment of his life. He’d been left alone with their two daughters, Emma and Claire, and no idea how to go on with his life.  
That had been almost nine months ago, and he’d often felt that Cas was still with him. There’s an empty box of Lucky Charms in the cabinet that Cas had left just before his last deployment that Dean just can’t seem to make himself throw away. He was always doing little things like that, and it never failed to annoy the fuck out of Dean, but now, it was a reminder that they had had anything at all.  
He woke up with a little girl on either side of him, none of them able to sleep alone since Cas passed. The sun wasn’t even out yet. Why the fuck was he awake. Then his phone rang again and he disentangled himself to grab it before it woke his girls up, and sitting on the edge of his bed.  
“’Lo?” he grumbled into the phone. Who the fuck was calling him in the middle of the fucking night? Yes, three AM was still the middle of the fucking night.  
“Mr. Winchester?”  
“Yeah.”  
“This is Colonel Michaelson at Shepherd Air Force Base.” A woman’s voice floated through the phone.  
“What the hell do you want?” He grumbled.  
“We need you to come to the base. We have something that belongs to you.”  
What the actual fuck? “Just mail it.”  
“I’m afraid we can’t do that sir. We’ll need you to come retrieve your property as soon as possible.”  
“I moved to South Dakota. I can’t just show up at the base whenever I fucking feel like it.” He was near shouting at this point so he left the bedroom so he wouldn’t wake the girls up.  
“I understand that, Mr. Winchester, but this is a rather urgent matter. It has to do with your husband, Master Sergeant Castiel Winchester.” She informs him crisply.  
“What? Did… Did you find his body?”  
“I am unable to disclose that information over the phone Mr. Winchester. I need you to come here so that we may have this conversation in a more secure location.”  
“Look I’ve got to find somebody to watch my kids, alright?” Dean said tiredly. “I’ll be there in a couple days.  
“Of course. Please ask for Naomi Michaelson when you arrive.” She said and hung up.  
“Fuck.” Dean mumbled as he headed down the stairs. He really needed some coffee.  
Bobby agreed to keep Emma and Claire while Dean went on this little errand. What the Air Force though he owed them after they’d gotten his husband killed he didn’t know, but unless they were able to magically resurrect him, he was gonna give ‘em more than a piece of his mind.  
Security was a fucking nightmare. There were new guards and it took nearly an hour to get him to the Colonel’s office. When they finally let him back, there was a young man in dress blues behind the desk. His nameplate said ‘Bartholmew and Dean wondered, not for the first time, if everyone named after a celestial being felt the need to join the air force to get their wings.  
The young man looked up then, his eyes traveling across Dean’s ripped jeans, dirty boots and Metallica T-shirt. “May I help you, sir?” He asked snidely.  
“I’m here to see Naomi Michaelson.”  
“The Colonel,” The man said. “Is awaiting a VIP. You’ll have to wait.”  
“I’m Dean Winchester.” He told him smugly and watched as his face morphed into embarrassment. “Right, just a moment, please.” Bartholomew said as he picked up the phone and informed The Colonel that her VIP had arrived. The blond man stood quickly. “Right this way.” He said as he headed toward a set of large cherry doors.  
Before they reached them, however, a rigid woman in full uniform stepped out of the office. “That will be all, Staff Sergeant.” She said in a formal tone as she turned to lead Dean into the office.  
“Yeah, thanks, Bart.” Dean said smirking over his shoulder as he followed her inside. He closed the door and turned around to come face to face with his wildest dream and his own worst nightmare.  
Castiel stood in the office exactly as Dean remembered him the day before his last deployment. He was in that suit he wore to formal gatherings. The one that never really fit. He’d tied his tie backwards again, and he had that insufferable trench coat on over all of it. It felt like he’d stepped into a vacuum all the air leaving him at once as he took in the form of what appeared to be his very much alive husband.  
“No.” Dean uttered. This wasn’t right. Cas was dead. There had been police cars, and condolences and fucking funeral! “No.” Dean said more loudly this time. “No, you’re dead. This isn’t. No”  
Cas’ face which had been unreadable before seemed to fall into a sad little smile. “It would appear the rumors of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”  
Dean couldn’t move or speak. He stood just in front of those tall wooden doors feeling more trapped than he has since Emma’s mother had told him she was pregnant. This was wrong. He’d fucking mourned his husband eight months ago, damn it! No! He, of course, couldn’t express that because his voice had left him when he’d entered this fucked up alternate reality thing. Cas was talking but Dean couldn’t make sense of anything he was saying. This wasn’t fucking right!  
“Dean?” He heard Cas’ familiar voice so close to him, and that was Cas’ voice. No one else could say his name like that. As if the entire universe had been stretched out before him for his entertainment and that universe was laced between the letters of that single syllable name. “Dean, can you hear me?”  
“I, yeah. I can hear you, but you… you’re not… you can’t be.” Dean’s voice was barely more than a whisper. How he managed to say anything at all was beyond him.  
“Dean, please listen to me. I was on assignment in the Middle East. I became unable to contact anyone. If I had had a way I would have let you know I was all right.” Cas was trying to reassure him. Dean’s legs didn’t seem to be working now either as he stumbled and Cas caught him easily. His vision began to swim as the words circled around his head refusing to make sense.  
“Breathe.” Cas was saying in his ear. “Just breathe for me, Dean. Can you do that, for me? In, then out. In and out. Come on, baby, please just breathe.” Didn’t hadn’t realized he’d stopped but the burning in his lungs was definitely a good clue. He opened his mouth and pulled in a ragged, desperate breath.  
Cas was right there holding onto his hand and stroking his face affectionately. Dean looked up into a field of blue so pure it could only belong to Cas.  
“C-Cas?” He breathed out.  
“Yeah, baby, it’s me.”  
“But how? You….you’re dead.”  
“No, Dean. I didn’t die. It was a misunderstanding. It’s okay. I’m okay. I’m right here.” Cas told him desperately. Dean caught his still stroking hand with his own and looked at the ring on the third finger. It was a simple silver band. He knew without having to look that on the inside of it there would be his initials and those of their daughters carved out just like they had carved into each other’s lives. This was Cas. He was really here. Right in front of him. Holy shit!  
“You faked your fucking death!” Dean finally screeched.  
“I didn’t fake my death, Dean.” Cas huffed dramatically.  
“No, you just had the Air Force do it for you!”  
“You’re being ridiculous. I wasn’t able to contact anyone. They didn’t know I was safe.”  
Dean let out another angry snort before pulling Cas up to him by the lapels of his stupid trench coat and smashing their mouths together. “You. Stupid. Son-of-a. Bitch!” Dean shouted kissing him deeper between each word until they were clutching each other closely breathing heavily into each other’s mouths and staring into each other’s eyes. That is until Dean seemed to remember something.  
“You ate all my fucking cereal.”  
Cas froze for a moment staring at Dean in absolute disbelief before Dean’s face split into a beaming grin. “Let’s go home. I want to see my daughters.” Castiel said out of breath.  
“How the fuck are we gonna explain this one?” Dean asked still laughing.  
“Poppa’s an angel?”  
Dean huffed out an incredulous laugh. “Yeah, right”


End file.
